The Night Shift
by TheRabidWriter
Summary: Working the night shift in Gotham City is something that nobody wants to do, but Lily doesn't really have a choice. She also don't have a choice when a familiar rogue decides he needs a little caffeine boost- and someone to toy with.


**Hello!**

 **I haven't posted much in a while but I got a random idea for a Joker short story while working one day, and then I wrote it.**

 **And now I'm posting it.**

 **Enjoy :)**

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 **The Night Shift**

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Who drinks coffee at 9:00 PM at night? Well, aside from college students studying for exams, or anyone else with a reason to be up all night long, no one in their right mind wanted to stay up late into the night. Not in Gotham City. You see, once the sun was down and everyone was heading home, the work day is done and the criminals get to come out and play. Or at least, those who weren't afraid of the big bad Bat.

I was one of those unlucky souls who wasn't given the chance to lock themselves behind their front door, hoping to barricade themselves from the madness that was the city at night. You see, I was one of those college students who needed the job, needed the money, and at this point in the semester, needed the coffee. I worked at this coffee shop that was about 20 minutes from campus. Java; the Hut, it was called, and while I appreciate a bad pun once in a while, I have to admit, it was funnier when I first started. There were three problems with work; one was the location. We were placed right near the edge, where the scum of the street were wandering, near Amusement Mile. Two, because of this, we didn't get that many people who were the nicest of folk, or had the money to afford to tip. But the checks are good enough, and I had a day-job on campus too. That leads to problem number three, my hours. No one was brave enough to work the later shifts of the day, the 4:00 to 10:00 shifts. They were afraid because sometimes, old felons or criminals came in for a cup of Joe, and sometimes, those who had just taken up criminal activity would stop by. Yes, we had been robbed several times, but a job is a job. After a while you become numb to criminal activity, and seeing that I was there for 4 of the 5 robberies, I was pretty freaking numb.

So there I was, it was 9:00 PM, a Thursday night, and the hut was empty as ever. Yellowing bulbs from overhead were dim, needing to be desperately replaced, and I had cleaned every chair, table, and stool in the building. It was me, myself, and my fourth cup of coffee made with milk and sugar. I had a final the next day, so I decided to study until I could leave. And by study, I mean to have my book and my notes for my Global Communications class sitting on the counter and to instead be doodling on some blank paper. Circles upon circles and scribbles upon scribbles were more interesting than notes.

The sound of graphite scratching against a smooth sheet of paper mixed with the sound of 90's ballads playing from the one working speaker in the back of the store was a familiar and soothing one. The night shift no longer bothered me. Although I will admit, the sound of the bell ringing lightly, and surprisingly loudly, as someone opened the front door, threw me off entirely. Lazy eyes drifted up from the doodles, looking at my first customer in a few hours. Although, they hadn't fully stepped into the store yet. Instead they stood in the doorway, still concealed in the darkness that was the sidewalk, as if they were observing to see if the building met their expectations, or their tastes. I stared at them for a few seconds, watching to see what their next move would be. I knew this wasn't a robbery, because there was no yelling and no gun in my face yet. No robber was this slow, nor did any robber scan the room. Robbers were usually just desperate for cash, and used fake guns, and there was never any point in trying to test that theory.

A good ten seconds went by, before the figure in the doorway even made a slight move. They inhaled sharply, before exhaling loudly.

"Aside from the terrible, awful pun of a name, and the colorless display you people chose as decor," The stranger stated dryly, before their silhouetted shoulders shrugged up and down, as a chuckle echoed slightly through the store, "I've seen much worse."

"I like to keep it clean," I replied right away, placing the pencil down and slowly shoving the piece of paper to the side, along with my schoolwork, "See, people are expecting that, since this shop is close to 'that part' of Gotham, this place is going to be scummy, disgusting even. Jokes on them," I couldn't help but grin, "We are like, a 6 out of 10 when it comes to tiny coffee shops with shitty names." The stranger chuckled again, and while the chuckle was friendly enough, something about it left a threatening tension lingering in the air. But my grin didn't falter; after all, it's my job to look friendly as fuck.

"Jokes on them, indeed." With another exhale the stranger started to take one long stride inside, one hand still on the door handle, before they stopped again. "Although, I must know, _what_ is it that this little shop can offer me, that the rest cannot?" At this point, it was clear to me that the stranger in the doorway was a male, but with a voice that was pretty strange, to say the least. He didn't speak like he was from the city, or from Gotham, I should say. His voice itself was strange on it's own; it was smooth, and yet utterly articulate and sharp; like that of a man in show business, one who demanded attention, demanded an audience. Captivating, yet chilling.

"Well, if you're in need of a crappy cup of coffee, and a warm place to sit in," I gestured to the dusty looking grey rack of newspapers by the door, "And last weeks paper, you've come to the right place." Despite not being able to see the strangers face, I could see his head had turned to look at me, only slightly, and the tension in the air began to bubble, and expand.

"You're quite chatty for a young girl working alone in such a, well, _distasteful_ part of the city," There was a hint of amusement in his observation as he strode in fully. As his hand released the door, letting it slam shut behind him, the bell ringing loudly once more for a few seconds, before he tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket. I could now see what he was wearing; a large coat, a trench coat I assumed, although I had never actually seen anyone in real life wear one, and a large-rimmed hat. Very old fashioned was the sense of style I got from him. Although, from the looks of it, his clothes were a very sharp, very vibrant color of purple, which was quite 'in-your-face' if we're being honest, here. I noticed that his head was no longer turned in my direction, but rather, he was looking at the décor on the wall. Framed photos of the owner and his family, old newspaper article cutouts, and other various memorabilia my owner had decided would make the most welcoming of decoration. "Not afraid of all those creeps wandering the streets at this hour?" I snorted a little, having heard this question from several concerned customers, fellow students and co-workers, and even my boss. "I'll take that as a no, then?"

"Well," I pressed my fingers against the pencil, rolling it up and down the counter, "While I've always been a people person, I was petrified to work alone at night when I first started here. But, like everyone else in Gotham, I've grown numb to it." Now it was his turn to scoff and snort, as he continued to observe the various frames on the wall. He reached up, adjusting one so that it was crooked, rather than straight, keeping his hands placed on the edge of the frame very gently.

"No one, not even the simple civilians of Gotham, are numb to frightening situations," He said, obviously humored by what I had said, "Sure, sure! After a while, all of those horrific stories just become every-day news, nothing you haven't heard before. But there's always that tiny little bit of fear, that you will never be able to get rid of. The, 'What ifs?' that plague your thoughts every so often. ' _What if_ it happens to _me_?' you wonder," He released the frame, twirling the wrist of his right hand in a fashion I can only describe as, well, flamboyant, "And what if it does happen to you? Then what?" It was as he finished his head turned to the right, as though he were trying to eyeball me with his peripherals.

"We have been robbed at gun point several times," I decided to point out, trying to ignore the creeping sense of dread that was starting to waltz up my spine and to my neck, causing me to shiver slightly, "So you could say I _have_ experienced it." For a second, I wondered why I was even tying to argue, to prove that Gotham's daily dose of crazy didn't affect me.

"More often than not, those petty robberies are committed by bored young men, whose only goal is to be able to afford several more packs of Marlboros and some booze, who bought their guns at a toy store, and some black paint, all for twelve measly dollars!" The stranger spat, as if the mention of being robbed at the counter even fell under the same category. "I'm talking about getting caught up with the crazies. Tangling with Poison Ivy, bumping into Bane, or maybe even jesting with the Joker. When you find yourself actually facing the insanity this city deals with on a daily basis, hm?" My grin had definitely fallen at this point, and I could feel my heart pounding as I realized this conversation had gone south very quickly. With a quick turn on his heel, the stranger faced me, his hands still up in the air, posed in the universal shrug that signified questioning. "Then what? What do you do when you stop living that little lie that you're _fine_ living here, in Gotham?" He lowered one arm, as he began stalking towards me slowly, his other arm reaching upward for his hat, "What if, instead of another robbery, you find yourself face to face with someone with no boundaries? Someone who, well, to put it nicely, wouldn't think twice about spraying your brains all over the wall, just for fun?" In one quick motion, he ripped his hat off and had tossed it at me, my arms scrambling to catch it just in time before it hit the floor. "Someone like- Oh, I don't know…" His voice drawled, trailing off a little as he reached inside his jacket, stepping right up to the counter, so I could get a real good look at him. That feeling of dread, the one that warned me to quit while I was ahead, was screaming at me as I got a good look at my customer. His rich green hair was tangled, pieces furled from the containment of the hat, slightly matted until he ran his gloved fingers through it. Burnished green eyes, too green, pierced through my own, slicing through whatever confidence and security I had left, tearing it to shreds, and burning it with a venomous gleam. Blood red lips were stretched in a ghastly smile; one that stretched the corners of his chalk-white skin, creating intense laughter lines that seemingly never went away. The dread in me, and every fiber of my being, was screaming at me to do something, because this familiar face, plastered all over the news and the city itself, meant nothing but trouble. And I was too stupid to recognize it.

"Someone like me?" The Joker finished his sentence as he leaned against the counter, his hand slipping out from his coat to reveal a gun in his hand, his thumb reaching up, and all it took was that one tiny 'click' to snap me out of my fearful daze and I began to stammer.

"I-I didn't….you s-see I…." My eyes didn't move away from his face, and he raised his eyebrows, as though he were actually interested in what I had to say. Except, nothing was coming out now; there was nothing I could fathom and nothing I could say, so that left me with a shaking jaw as my mouth opened and closed, waiting for some sort of sound to form.

"I thought you said you were _numb_ , to this sort of thing?" His voice was higher in pitch, a tone a person used when mocking another. Oh God, he was mocking me, which could only mean one thing. I was going to die. "You look pretty fearful to me. In fact, I'd say you are downright terrified, Miss…" His eyes trailed down to my name-tag as his smile widened, "Lily."

Like speedy little bullets my eyes darted across his face, taking in every terrifying feature, as my mind began to whir, trying to think of something, _anything_ , to do. That's when I remembered his hat. Down in my shaking hands was his hat, and since my mouth couldn't process anything worthy of saying, I reached out both shaking arms, extending the hat back towards him. Joker looked at it, amused yet unmoving, until in one quick motion he snatched it back from me. His sudden reach shocked me enough that my body finally connected with my mind, causing me to jump and shriek loudly.

"Thank you, Dear," He said as he placed hat to the right of him, letting it rest on the counter, before he looked back at me again, "So, about that crappy cup of coffee?" The menacing grin on his face had melted into a less threatening smile, but the gun was still in his hand. "That _is_ what I came in here for. I'm not here just to blow your brains out the back of your head," He chuckled darkly, "I have no reason to! Or at least- _not yet_ , I don't."

I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't, freaking, believe it. While having a gun pointed at me was nothing new, having on of the most, if not _the_ most, dangerous criminal pointing it at me wasn't good. But, I was never really one to let my emotions control my actions. And while half of me wanted to just scream until my voice blew out and make a run for it, the other half of me chose to walk over to the coffee pots, as I began to prepare a new brew.

"So, uh-" I coughed awkwardly, trying to ignore the horrible feeling that was having the Joker stare you down, "What is it that brought you to this little shithole of a coffee shop anyways?" I figured that, since the Joker was one who loved to talk, that talking might be the difference between leaving my shift alive or in a body bag.

"Ah- there's her voice!" He chuckled as he gently lowered the gun, placing it down on the counter by his hat, as he rested his elbows and folded his hands, "Well, I have a bit of a late night ahead of me and figured I would be able to find a cozy little place to rest before I get to uh, _work_." He said work with such malice and finished it off with an evil giggle that I knew his work meant something sinister. Frankly, I didn't want to know what it was. So I didn't ask. Instead, I pressed my thumb down on the start button, and heard the tiny whir of the coffee machine as it began spewing tiny droplets of coffee into the pot.

"That'll take about two minutes," I murmured to myself as I brushed my hands on my pants, deciding to be brave and turn to face the Joker again, leaning against the wall, "This place is cozy enough, I guess."

"The staff is certainly friendly enough," Was his reply, as his grin widened, "Cute, too." Five seconds in and already he was causing my skeleton to squirm underneath my skin, and I turned away, coughing again.

"What flavor coffee did you say you wanted? Or was it a latte?" I rambled quickly, trying to get his focus off of me and on his coffee, so he would (hopefully) leave.

"I didn't." There was a low hum that rumbled from his throat as I felt his gaze suddenly lift itself off of me, and I looked back to see him looking up at the chalkboard menu overhead. "What do you recommend, Dear?" Piercing green eyes found mine again, and I shivered.

"I personally prefer the caramel," I shrug, "It's sweet enough, but doesn't rot your teeth and give you diabetes on the spot." A tiny smirk tugged at my lips, but my joke was enough to get another laugh out of him.

"I'll have that then," The Joker leaned forward, applying more pressure to his elbows as he watched me prepare his drink. Reaching for a cup, I tried to pretend that his staring didn't make me uncomfortable; when I'm pretty sure my face was red as all hell. I get flustered easily.

"How would you like it?" I asked as I toyed with the cup a little, "Milk? Cream? Black?" Something inside was telling me he took his coffee black, and that he'd make a joke about preferring it, 'Black like his heart', or something like that.

"Milk and sugar is fine by me," He said with a smile, his eyes never leaving mine. I nodded, pouring in the correct amount of both, before pouring in the freshly brewed coffee. I stirred it, before putting on a lid, making sure it was on tight, and sliding the drink to him.

"Order up," I said, before patting the broken bell on the counter, "Ding ding!" I chimed weakly in a high voice, before cringing inwardly. Despite being face to face with a dangerous sociopath, my inner 'Totally not funny barista' was kicking in. It was a habit. Instead of laughing, the Joker smirked at me, the way one would when seeing something they observe as annoyingly cute, before he took a sip of the coffee. His tongue darted out, grazing over his lips, before it went back inside his mouth, and he nodded slowly.

"That," He said in a low voice, as he brought the cup back to his lips, taking another sip, his eyes not leaving mine as he brought it back down again, "Is one crappy cup of coffee." I snorted a little, before my snort turned into a giggle, and my giggle turned into a laugh. I couldn't help it; despite not even trying to be funny, or what he defined as funny, the Joker had managed to get a meaningful, sincere laugh out of me. Whether it was the delivery of his line, or the sheer expression on his face, or even the fact that he continued to drink it, it was funny to me. Or maybe it was a mix of exhaustion and fear.

"I-I," I waved a hand before bringing it to my face, covering my eyes a little as I laughed, "Sorry I just- I don't know, I-I found that funny…" My laughter started to die down, turning back into giggles, before becoming nothing as the Joker continued to watch me. For a second, I wondered if I had annoyed him, or maybe he truly wasn't pleased with his coffee and my laughing at his disapproval made him upset. It took a second before either of us made a move, he being the first. He shifted in his seat, placing the cup down, before leaning back in the chair a little, sitting upright. I looked at him, before down at the ground, biting my lip as I waited for him to pick up the gun and kill me swiftly.

"Would you like to know something?" His voice shocked me, causing me to jump a little, and I nodded quickly in response. Going with him rather than against him was the best option. "I need you to look at me, Dear…" When my head didn't move, out of the fear that I'd be looking up at the barrel of a gun, he raised his voice, almost yelling. "Look at me!" Immediately I shot my head up, making eye contact with him, to see that he was smiling. Only this smile was different from the others; it wasn't hiding malice, it wasn't psychotic, and it wasn't annoyed. It was more the expression a person makes when they're trying to be sincere, or seem humbled. With a gloved finger he motioned for me to move closer, and I complied out of fear that he'd shift from calm to crazy f I didn't. Or was this calm his version of crazy? I felt jumbled and trapped, knowing that any move I make could be the wrong one. Once again he moved his finger, and he continued until I was leaning against the counter as well. My arms shook as they tried to support the pressure I had just put on them, and I knew I probably looked pale and sickly, terrified out of my wits. The Joker fixed his face, letting the smile relax, it being less tense made it's meaning more sincere.

"Would you find it interesting to know that you are the first person to smile and laugh at me sincerely?" He asked, looking at me as though he were expecting me TO be shocked by this news. Having calmed down slightly, I loosened up a little, my shaking subsiding, as I widened my eyes a little, mostly sarcastically but I tried to seem sincere.

"Really?" He nodded, pursing his lips before let out a sigh, closing his eyes for a second.

"Well, aside from Harley," He let out a grunt, "Although to be frank she annoys the hell out of me sometimes." That got a giggle out of me, but the giggle quickly dissolved when he looked at me again, "Normally I have to…well, _persuade_ some people to just smile. And when I get a fake smile, I only have one other option." He made a face, a mischievous expression that meant I should know very well that these 'people' he's talking about are the ones who end up dying laughing.

"I see no reason not to smile," I replied, sort of in a murmur, as I stood upright again. "As much as I'm enjoying this friendly conversation, there are some work related things I need to get to." Realizing he may take this as me kicking him out, which would lead to him kicking me out via a bullet, I quickly added: "So feel free to stay here, I just need to finish closing." The Joker smiled at me again, nodding.

"Why of course! I don't mean to keep you from working," He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the counter, "Can't slow down good, hard-working employees like yourself." I grinned, deciding that my friendly demeanor was my life-saver.

The next half hour was spent sweeping and mopping, wiping down counter-tops and machines, and throwing out old food. Once it was nearing closing time, I went into the back and washed dishes. The Joker remained the entire time. He didn't speak; instead he watched as I carried on with my list of to-do's, before I had thrown on my sweatshirt and had started pouring my tips into a baggie.

"I wish I were able to let you stay, but I'm afraid I need to lock up," I paused, "Mr. Joker…sir," I winced a little, awkwardly trying to figure out what to call him.

"No need for such formality! Joker will do," He said, a grin plastered on his face, "or Mister J," He chuckled lowly, as he stood up, donning his hat again and sticking his gun back in it's place one he had his coat on.

"Right, Mister J," I replied, nodding, as I fumbled for they key, walking steadily towards the door. As I got closer to him, I noticed just how tall he was. And I was already a short girl, about 5 foot 3, so having this man, this very dangerous man, towering over me was intimidating. He was able to peer down at me, making his smile seem more menacing as he beat me to the door, holding it open.

"After you, Dear," He gestured to the door, bowing over slightly, that grin still stuck there, and I smiled a little, slightly uncomfortable still.

"Thank you," As I slipped out and he followed right after, I pulled the door shut and stuck the key in, twisting and locking it. "I oughtta' get home now," I told him, looking up at him as I adjusted my backpack, "I enjoyed our chat."

"Hold your horses! We don't have to just end our conversation here. Please," He stuck out his right arm, requesting that I loop my arm with his, "Allow me to walk you home. I insist." His tongue made a sharp sound, clicking when he finished the 't' in insist, before he smiled at me. Looking up at him, I shuddered a little, my face struggling to maintain the polite smile.

"No need to worry, I'll be fin-" Before I could finish my sentence, Joker had looped his arm with mine, before putting his other hand on my forearm, holding it tightly. Deciding to not argue and to just do as told, I began walking in the direction towards my apartment, Joker 'leading' me there. It was silent for a few moments, and even though I was usually in a rush to get home, I really didn't want the Joker knowing where I lived.

"So uh…" My mind was scrambling for a new conversation. Something told me that if I were to begin boring him, his friendly front would disappear. "This weather…it's uh….pretty dry." I could feel that pair of eyes peering at me from the side, so I was quick to continue, clearing my throat and staring straight ahead, "No rain, which I feel is the staple for Gotham city weather."

"The weather…a conversation starter people only use when they begin to get desperate for something, anything, to say," The Joker said in a gleeful tone as he chuckled, and as he chuckled I could feel his body move with it, rhythmically.

"Well, I'm just tired, from work and school and," I sighed a little quietly as I weakly added a bit of spunk to my sentence, "and all that jazz." I ended it with quick, and by quick I mean _quick_ , jazz hands, before I shut my mouth once more. I was beginning to wonder if I should just start walking in different directions, maybe towards more heavily populated areas (if anybody who wasn't a criminal was out) or maybe towards the bus stop because, lets face it, I really didn't want to spend the rest of the night hanging out with…. _this_ guy. It was a blur, really, the next few seconds, as my eyes were scanning the dreary streets for any sort of sanctuary when my body was suddenly flung away from the road. Rather than run into any sort of solid object, I stumbled backward, my hip banging into a trash receptacle hard, causing me to let out a groan of pain, and I finally fell back, landing hard on the same hip, my hands slapping down onto the ground roughly. Before I had a chance to process what had just happened, I was suddenly being lifted up, far from gently I might add, and my back slammed against hard stone. As my eyes began to re-focus, a little blurry from the whiplash, I felt something dig into my hair and tug back on it, as leather-clad fingers began to stroke the veins of my neck. That's when I remembered who had been 'oh-so-kindly' walking me home.

"Oh Lily, Lily blue," The Joker sighed in a sing-song kind of voice, as he looked into my eyes, "What am I to do with you?"

"I-I'll take trick questions for 50 points, Alex," I replied nervously, laughing weakly as Joker's fingers wriggled around more, knotting themselves and intertwining with my hair in the most painful of ways. His eyes were full of malice, and his grin was widening; my heart nearly stopped, and I knew my face was full of fear, and he was loving every second of it.

"You know, my dear," He said, softly, but still very threatening, " You have been such wonderful company tonight. In fact, I'm late for my… _meeting_ ," His voice grew darker, and he chuckled slightly, before quickly cutting it short and leaning his face closer towards the side of mine, until his lips were hovering above my right ear; "I think I'd like to keep you. See how much fun you could really be…" He started to chuckle again, quietly, but it was loud to me; ringing in my ear and echoing through my skull. My body began to shake, and I could feel my face lose all color, as my eyes began to water. Joker's fingers left my skin, and he let out a quiet sigh.

"While I do find you amusing, unfortunately, I'm the one who makes the jokers," That looming threat was back, twisting with every word he spoke, as he giggled, "I'd have to find another use for you. Maybe…you could be my doll. My pretty. Little. Doll." Each word he spat was more venomous than the last, and I felt something cold and something sharp graze my neck, "We could play doctor. Figure out what makes little Lily tick. Slice through this porcelain skin of yours, and watch you get doused in speck of red. What pretty art you would be."

By now, my body was shaking more as silent sobs began to rack me, causing the knife he now had pressed against my neck to knick my skin a few times, and I struggled to remain quiet, unsure if he would slit my throat if I screamed out. Suddenly I felt his lips, his grinning lips, press against my ear as he whispered hoarsely; "Oh Lily, what fun we would have." In a flash the knife was away, and before I could make sense or recover from what he had said, the Joker suddenly reeled back, his head tossed back as his vibrant green hair swished gently, and hysterical laughter erupted from him. He was bent over, clutching his sides and laughing, and as tears continued to stream down my face, I stared at him in utter confusion. As quickly as it started, the laughter stopped, abruptly, and he stared at me with that deadly malice once more; "Just joking."

That was it. With whatever bravery (or maybe it was the hysteria I was feeling) I had left, I made a run for it. Or, I tried to.

"Ah ah ah!" Jokers fingers were clamped on my left wrist before I could even dart past him, and I felt myself twirl forcefully, as he suddenly pressed his chest to mine, pushing me back against the wall of the alley once more, so I was entirely cornered. "You can't leave yet! That would be quite rude of you." Like the frightened animal I was, I began to shake more, my crying becomes slightly louder. I could feel the world 'please' form on my lips, but in my gut, I knew that begging would annoy him. After all, he heard it almost every day. He would much rather be amused. Still shaking, still sobbing as quietly as possible, I sniffled;

"W-Was…was the coffee that bad? O-Or was it…m-my jokes?" I sounded pathetic; utterly pathetic. But rather than sneer or snap my neck, he began to laugh once more, as a hand cupped my chin, forcing me to look up at him, into those malicious green eyes.

"What a charmer you are, Lily!" He exclaimed gleefully, before his face wrinkled, forming an expression that signified deep thought. "Might I add, you're absolutely adorable when you're terrified. You get a little pouty…" I felt his thumb suddenly graze my lower lip, and my heart nearly jumped out of my chest, as my throat became dry and I found it hard to swallow. He grinned again, staring me down, taking in my fear as though its toxicity were delighting him more than any drug, and he cupped my jaw roughly. "Those pouty little lips of yours." He sounded far more animal now, like a predator, and I nearly let out another horrified sob as he suddenly forced his lips against mine, in one of the most aggressive and violent kisses I have ever received. It hurt, the pressure, and I couldn't help but wince and whine, which only caused him to grin. He continued, suddenly catching my lower lip in his teeth and biting down; hard. I felt the skin break, and winced again as blood dribbled onto my tongue. His tongue, however, grazed over the new wound, licking up a bit of the blood, and I heard him growl quietly. "Silly Lily."

His face finally moved away, and I tried to ignore the prominent stinging, as he focused on my face, inspecting every detail, boring into my brain, and digging through me. I knew he could see right through me.

"I-I need to get home, I had classes tomorrow." I stated, louder than I thought I would, and as I watched his eyebrows go up, almost annoyed, I quickly added, "I-It was lovely meeting you." I inhaled sharply, "Joker."

"The pleasure was all mine." And just like that, he released me. My legs buckled, and I felt him pull away, suddenly my body couldn't hold itself up anymore. I fell forward, but never had a chance to hit the ground, as I felt that painful vice of a grip grab my upper arms, hauling me up once more.

"You're exhausted." The Joker stated, almost dully, as if he were trying to make it obvious how little he cared. "How ever are you going to make it home in such a fragile state? After all, there's no Batman in sight, and many of the pedestrians" Without answering him, I let out a nearly silent sigh, and began to walk out of the alley way, knowing his footsteps would soon begin to match up with mine.

I'm not sure which is worse; the seemingly playful banter that really holds vicious intentions and the roughhousing, or the dead silence, not knowing what he is thinking. My eyes would dart up and look at him quickly, and rarely was he looking at me. Rather, he looked straight ahead, his face deadpan and emotionless. It was terrifying. Finally, I saw it, my apartment complex, and almost let out a 'halleluiah!' but refrained, slowing down slightly. With a shaky hand, I pulled out my I.D and scanned it, allowing myself into the building, and started for the elevator, hoping that maybe, he would finally just leave me alone- or kill me. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the shaggy little piece of white paper, with the scribbled words 'Out of Order' on it, and I groaned, loudly.

"Shame," His voice startled me, and I physically jumped, eliciting a chuckle from him. "Stairs it is then." I nearly didn't make it up the four flights of stairs, my legs weak and wobbling, threatening to give out on me at any given second. But the Joker made sure I stayed up, practically carrying me up the stairs, going slowly and once again, silent. I managed to push open the doorway, and nearly stumbled into the hall, close to ripping myself from his hold and darting to my room. But I didn't. Instead, I let him 'lead' me to my door, before stopping.

"Home sweet home," I announced dryly, part of my normal routine, which felt comforting considering how tonight had been far from normal. Once I had finally unlocked the door, I ripped myself from his grip, walked over to my couch (more like trampled over my own feet to it) and collapsed onto it, breathing heavily and sagging, barely on it, before my exhausted and terrified body finally shut down, and I passed out.

"Trash day isn't until Tuesday!" I yelled, sitting up in a panic, gripping at my bedsheets until I realized I was in my room, and had just woken up. "Why do I keep having that dream?" I grumbled, smacking my lips as I realized I had a horrible taste in my mouth. Did I even brush my teeth? Throwing off my sheets, I sat up. Actually, I tried to sit up, but realized not only was I incredibly sore, but my torso was stinging. "Oh my god, ow!" Wincing as I pushed myself off of the bed, I started to shuffle my way to the bathroom, only making it about halfway when I realized I was in my purple pajama pants and an old tee shirt form high school.

"Weird…" I grumbled, "I never wear clothes to bed…" I shook my head once more, and flicked on the bathroom light, turning to the mirror as I began to lift up my shirt. Before I could do that, I looked at my reflection in shock, who shared the same expression with me, as I saw how swollen my lower lip was. Black and blue, with a jagged line across it, thinly caked in dry blood. My fingers touched it gently, but even the lightest touch stung, and I quickly threw off my shirt, forgetting about how sore my limbs were.

"Oh my…" The sentence was lost as I stared at myself, my fingers now shaking a few inches above my stomach, my eyes trailing across all of the cuts that had been made into my skin. Dried blood was covering the majority of them, but there was fresh blood being drawn, and I looked at the shirt on the floor, realizing that the blood had stuck to it over night. I hadn't even felt the pain, I was too dumbfounded to feel anything other than shock. Carefully, still shaking, I took a facecloth and wet it with warm water, gently washing off the dried blood, until there was nothing but cuts left. Now that all of the dried blood had been removed, I could make out the words that had been carefully carved backwards into my skin, making them legible in the mirror, with jagged 'ha's' and smiley faces that were scattered in my skin;

 _See you soon, Lily._

 _Sincerely, Mister J._


End file.
